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twenty-eight

Carnaxa

I have always heard that twin drops aren’t just connected by their souls, but their hearts as well. I smile as I listen to Ereon’s steady heartbeat; it beats at the same tempo as mine. Our heartbeats are another reminder of why I trust him — the twin drop between us. The slow rise and fall of his chest shows that he’s deep asleep. I trail my fingers across his ribs and the many scars there; I’m assuming the marks are from his father.

Tonight, even though I am exhausted after my time with Ereon, my mind is lost in thought. I shouldn’t want him. I know this. I hear how he’s talked about among the men, how he’s killed and killed often. He still had blood on him when he had me inside the tent. But I trust him. Is it possible that I love him? I’m starting to think I do, my heart refusing to accept reason. He has never lied to me and has been one of the few who does not coddle me, and I want that honesty more than anything.

I asked him if he would kill me if I had the madness, because I thought I was dreaming of the coolness that shifts down my arms from time to time. When I separated him and Thylas, it wasn’t something I meant to happen. I didn’t want them to hurt each other. I felt the energy flow through me, as if led by a simple thought. I saw the ice vines that held them in place, but I thought if I didn’t acknowledge it, they wouldn’t notice. But tonight, the display of power we witnessed wasn’t me, at least as far as I know. I did nothing but look out in horror as Ereon fought his way towards the soldier. But I felt the pull of the power as it wrapped around Ereon.

Something feels different — perhaps even wrong — inside of me. My thoughts feel like mine, but are not wholly my own. Even the sensation of my blood flowing through my veins feels altered. I’m unsure if it’s the madness, but whatever it is, it’s wrong. Anger seems to overtake all other feeling, and that’s not who I am.

I want to talk to someone, but who? I can’t talk to Siphonie for fear that if I do have the madness, her knowing could endanger her, Rhenor, and their unborn babe. Ambassador Thylas? The Shastonian who found his way into the good graces of the Antalian people. Despite what he says, I don’t trust him not to turn me in for his own gain. With me out of the way — he could have unchecked power if my father wasn’t king.

My father.

The deluc has consumed Antalis. My friend Marianna is dead as a result. I’ve rarely let myself think of her demise … of my kingdom’s. That’s selfish of me, but I’m unsure how I’m supposed to help. I’m trying my best to cling to what I know as we continue this journey. We are heading to the north now to get men for Midaeliea, but what of Antalis? Ereon swears we will change things, but how can we? How can I?

You’re useless. A status symbol who wears a crown.

I push the covers off me and sit up, twisting so my feet hang off the bed. I feel Ereon’s cool fingertips brush against my wrist.

“ Ryehro , are you okay?” Exhaustion laces his voice.

“I’m just thirsty.” I take advantage of his sleepy state, hoping to catch him off guard. “What does Ryehro mean?”

He lets go of my wrist and raises his hand to rub my back as he yawns. “My moon. You are my moon, a light in the darkness.”

His words make my cheeks flush with warmth. As I turn, I bend down and use my hand to sweep away the stray strands of brown hair that fall across his face. Pulling my legs back onto the bed, I watch as his eyes flutter open, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

Ereon’s hands glide across my ribs, sending a shiver down my spine. With a sudden movement, he pulls me towards him, and a startled scream escapes my lips as he positions me to straddle him. He grins and I can feel his hardness beneath me. Enveloped in his embrace, his intense gaze locks onto mine; I feel shielded from the chaos that surrounds us.

“Can you shine some of your light on my dark soul again, Ryehro ?” he whispers in the darkness, his fingers leaving a blazing trail along my thighs. He thrust up and I’m already pulling the night dress straps from my shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Strike again,” Ereon says from the sidelines of the makeshift ring.

I raise my staff, letting my hands take the position on the bottom and strike southwest towards Anara. She blocks the attack, striking back.

Anara is quiet — at least with me. Siphonie says she talks a lot to Thylas since the night we all witnessed the madness, a moon cycle ago. We’ve traveled slower than expected because of conflicting reports from the north. But in a way, I’m grateful … the slower pace has given me time to train.

Anara does what is asked of her; she’s always there when I need her as a handmaiden, but every time she looks at me, a sort of melancholy flashes across her features. Except for when she’s in this ring, then she’s a warrior to contend with.

Ereon has tried for days to talk to Anara, but every time he is in her vicinity she leaves. I understand they were together before I showed up. He still loves her, it’s plain across his face each time he sees her. I was the one to find the courage to ask her if she wouldn’t mind helping to train me. Even with her shackles and the chains between them, Anara always wins the matches.

The outfit she wears is almost identical to the one that Ereon had made for me. Anara told me that those in San’doma prefer pants.

Anara moves gracefully as I block her moves, a thud echoing through the camp as our staffs clash. She swipes quickly at the ground knocking my feet out from under me, causing me to land flat on my back.

Trying to catch my breath, I hear Ereon laugh. Anara comes into view, and I can’t help but smile up at her. I’m starting to like her, she doesn’t treat me like I’ll break.

“Sorry” — she holds out her hand, offering it to me to help pull me up — “I sometimes forget that I’m supposed to be training you, not leave you breathless.”

I stand up, quickly wiping away the dirt from the back of my pants and pick up my staff from the sandy ground. “Eventually, I’ll remember that move.” She’s beaten me every day this week with the same attack. I have a bruised back from falling, and while Siphonie believes it’s unbecoming for a princess to have bruises, I don’t really mind. And I am getting better. Slowly.

“I think that’s enough for today, Princess.” Ereon comes up to me, places his arm around me, and kisses my temple. We’ve found comfort in each other every night since the first night we came together.

“I’m going to go wash up then.” I look at Anara. “Can you come help me when you’re finished? I want to get out some of my warmer clothing since we will find ourselves in the snow soon. We buried those items underneath everything else when we left.”

“I can come now.” She grabs a black canteen from the ground and takes off her fingerless gloves — Ereon explained they are to better grip the staff — before taking a drink.

“I’ve got to go check in with Ryul and then I’ll be back. Find Thylas or Rhenor and try to stay with one of them, please.” Ereon looks down at me before his arm slips from my shoulders and he continues, “Anara, I would like a few words with you.”

Anara looks at me and then to him before she remarks, “Quickly then. I have things I must get done, Prince.”

I walk away from the tension, feeling the heaviness in the air between them. Walking slowly back to our tent, I pull my scarf over my head, the men stare less when my hair doesn’t incite their attention.

Siphonie comes skipping up beside me, weaving her arm with mine. “So, maybe I was incorrect about training. You are looking much better out there. At first, you looked like a child trying to walk.” She wears her lighter Antalian dresses, now that we are away from Shaston’s castle, and only wears a head scarf when she has to. She has her pale pink hair plaited into two strands. Siphonie is glowing, her stomach swelling. She pats the top of the bulge of her dress.

“Speaking of, how is the little shell?” I ask.

“Good. I think so, anyway. I thought I felt her move earlier, but it was so fast I can’t be sure. Almost like butterflies.” She’s determined the baby is a girl .

We walk into the tent, and I pour water into the basin so I can clean off the dust and sweat from training.

“You and Ereon seem to be doing ... better,” she says, not at all subtle.

As I prepare to respond, I take a moment to freshen up by washing my face with a cloth. “We are, I think. He doesn’t press me about not remembering things. He just lets me be, mostly.”

“Until at night.” Siphonie laughs. “I think the entire camp can hear what goes on between you two during the night.”

I throw the rag at her and she laughs harder, catching it before sitting down in a chair. She tosses the rag to the floor and looks over at me. Taking me in, she misses nothing, she never has. However, her eyes will always give her away. She looks carefree, but behind them, she’s gauging if I’m ready for a challenge, shocking gossip, or some sort of continent-shattering revelation. She’s looked at me like this for the past moon cycle, but hasn’t spoken up.

She takes a deep breath before she says, “You need to talk to Thy.”

I try to tug the tight leathers off my hips, feeling them cling to the curves of my body, and I roll my eyes. Nevermind, this she has already stated ... multiple times.

“I’ve said all I need to say.” Throwing the dirty clothes to the floor, I grab the thick, moss green skirt and pull it on. Next, I toss the matching long-sleeved top over my head, hoping she’ll drop the conversation. My hair is a mess, knotted on top of my head, but it will just have to do for now, because as I hear her sigh I know she’s not going to let this conversation go .

“He’s your twin drop, Naxa.” She leans over, grabbing my hand, trying to halt me.

“I know ... or, well, Ereon said as much. That changes nothing. I’ve not seen a single thing to make me believe that is true besides hearing both of your testimonies.” I pull my hand away from her. “Just drop it. I’ve already told you he tried to force himself on me.”

She rings her hands out in front of her. “He’s upset. You don’t remember him, you don’t remember sharing your body with both him and Ereon. Thylas has to listen to you and Ereon almost every night. It’s killing him. Can’t you see that?”

I have noticed the lost look in his eyes. When I first woke up in Shaston, Thylas walked the halls with confidence and now, I can’t remember the last time he didn’t look upset.

“What I do with my husband isn’t his concern. I can’t help how I feel about Thylas. I don’t trust him, Siph. It’s as simple as that. You are telling me, truthfully” — I take a breath before continuing — “that you are okay with someone from Shaston stealing an ambassador position. A position we didn’t even have until the deluc, and even then it wasn’t Rhenor — it is some person we barely know?”

“Carnaxa! We know him! You and I both!” she screams at me. “You know him, Naxa. You know him better than anyone. He held you when your mother died. His back is scarred because of his love for you. He only took the title because he had to, to protect you! You would know all of this if you would just talk to him, truthfully, talk to him. I don’t understand why you won’t give him a chance.” She stands up, tears of anger brimming her eyes. “I don’t know many things, but I know Thylas loves you. He made an oath to protect you. An oath he didn’t fully understand and now you just cast him away without listening to him? You aren’t this person, and I don’t know what’s happened, but you need to figure this out!”

I can hear her heavy footsteps as she angrily stomps out of my tent, the sound echoing through the campsite. I bury my head in my hands as I fall to the floor. Everything feels so messy. I hear what she and Ereon say, but I just ... I don’t feel it. In my soul I feel Ereon. But Thylas, I feel nothing when he’s near me. What is wrong with me?